


Another Nail

by MilitaryPenguin



Category: Kaiji
Genre: Bloodplay, Masturbation, Needles, Other, Sadism, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilitaryPenguin/pseuds/MilitaryPenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bloody manicure scene, now with Ichijou getting off on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Nail

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following request: "I want some bloodplay of Ichijou and Kaiji, please! Maybe he gets off when he’s giving him a manicure"

Kaiji lay on the floor in a daze of pain. His vision was obscured by tears and his mouth hung open, a tiny trickle of saliva protruding from it. But more than anything his head was just swimming in a pain that tuned out anything the underground casino’s manager was sneering at him.   
  
In the midst of all his agony, Kaiji recalled a similar—though decidedly less excruciatingly painful—experience he had as a child on the playground, when a splinter had gotten underneath his fingernail. His finger throbbed all day at the feeling of the splinter seemingly digging and burrowing its way under the nail. A pair of clippers and tweezers later, he was relieved of the irritating pain by his sister.  
  
That experience could, of course, not compare to the predicament he was currently caught in. A splinter under a fingernail was merely a nip compared to the cold steel needle of Ichijou’s device that relentlessly pierced the skin under his nail. Clippers and tweezers might have made the process of releasing the splinter longer, but it was an ultimately gentle process; completely unlike the slimy, stinging sensation he felt when the needle withdrew. And, no matter how much his sister teased and taunted him for crying, her teasing never dipped into outright sadism the man crouching down at him seemed to revel in, admiring the bloody handiwork he inflicted on his finger.  
  
“Are you awake yet, Kaiji-kun?”  
  
Kaiji didn’t want to look at his face, didn’t want to meet his gaze. And yet his eyes moved upward, locking on Ichijou’s wide, excited ones.  
  
“Now that you’ve ceased your poor act as a drooling vegetable, shall we continue?” said Ichijou, slowly pulling the horrible device over Kaiji’s middle finger.  
  
“W…wait…” Kaiji sputtered weakly, attempting to raise his other arm only to have its strength be easily overpowered by that of one of the black suits holding him down.  
  
Ichijou halted the device and snickered. “Whatever for, Kaiji-kun? I would have expected you of all people to prefer that we get this over with as quickly as possible. But if you’d prefer something slower and more painful…”  
  
“NO!”  
  
The redhead threw his head back in laughter. “Good, good! If I kept trash like you lying around here any longer you’d surely stink up the place. Let’s continue.”  
  
The device locked tightly on to his next finger. Kaiji bit his lip in painful anticipation as Ichijou turned the screw of the needle. It was only a matter of mere seconds and yet it felt like ages before he felt the searing pain of the needle piercing into his finger, blood oozing out as it burrowed further. Again, his head was swimming in pain and again, he couldn’t suppress a scream of agony, tears rolling down his cheeks more than ever. Ichijou soon moved on to the next finger, and the next, gleefully ignoring Kaiji’s tearful protests of “No more!”  
  
He wanted to die. God, did he ever want to die. And this fucking bastard knew it—knew he couldn’t give him that kind of satisfaction, that mercy. And…what was he doing? He released the device off his thumb, but instead of moving on to his next hand, he stood up. Could he possibly be taking pity on him?  
  
“Murakami,” Ichijou said, turning to the bigger-looking black suit, “Can you take over?”  
  
The black suit looked just as startled as he was when given the request to retrieve the device. “C-certainly, sir,” he answered reluctantly. Murakami held out his hands,  shaking a little as the device was placed in his palms, as though it were hot. He gripped the device and walked over to where Kaiji was being held down. Kaiji noticed that he looked a great deal less enthusiastic about performing the procedure than his boss was. Maybe he’d pierce it less further too, or not at all, trusting that Kaiji would pretend to be in pain for him.  
  
Just then, a black suit pulled over the chair from Ichijou’s desk and the owner sat in it, hands folded neatly in his lap. Now what was he doing? Was holding that little device just too much on his perfect, delicate hands that he had to take a break?  
  
“You may continue now, Murakami.”  
  
In spite of the nervous expression that persisted on Murakami’s face, he proved himself to be just as efficient in the process as his boss, much to Kaiji’s misfortune. It felt no less painful this time around—that white hot pain of the needle piercing in again, his throat too dry this time to let out so much as a whimper. Tears persisted in trailing down his cheeks, but as the pain subsided to a throb, he thought he heard something. Was that…moaning?  
  
Kaiji feebly lifted his head and immediately regretted it. There Ichijou was sitting with his cock in hand, rubbing it up and down the shaft. He should have known it. That bastard was getting off on this!  
  
With that Kaiji was able to push the stinging, throbbing pain in his fingers out of his mind and a new anger grabbed hold. “Never knew such a clean, high-class man as yourself would shamelessly jack off like this,” he managed to snap out, “You really aren’t any better than the trash you keep spitting on.”  
  
Ichijou grimaced at Kaiji’s insult—his hand now moving even faster up and down his cock. “I don’t give a shit about the worthless opinion of a stray,” he panted, grimace now settling back into a smirk, “No…I much preferred the sounds of your screams, Kaiji-kun. Let’s hear them again, shall we? Murakami!”  
  
As though channeling the wrath of his boss, the black suit managed to drive in an even greater pain into his skin, and this time a dry throat couldn’t stop the scream that was dying to release itself from his mouth. He wailed and sobbed, the nail refusing to cease its piercing into him. He could hear Ichijou yelling, “Yes! Just like that Murakami! Do it again!”  
  
To Kaiji’s horror, Murakami slowly seemed to be channeling the enthusiasm of his boss as well, not unlike the enthusiasm of a dog receiving praise from his owner for successfully performing a trick. Murakami pulled the needle out and quickly locked it on to Kaiji’s next finger, plunging it harder and further under his fingernail. Kaiji continued to writhe and cry, and Ichijou rushed over to Murakami’s side, still pumping his hand up and down his shaft, a wild grin on his face.  
  
“Yes…scream…squirm…burn this moment into your memory…!” he laughed in between pants. “You’ll relive this over and over in your nightmares underground! UNTIL THE DAY YOU DIE, KAIJI-KUN!”  
  
The same pain repeated, and yet each seemed greater than the last. That physical pain, combined with Murakami’s now downright cheerful appearance—no thanks to his boss’s joyful approvals—and Ichijou’s utter ecstasy at his pain…he felt like he was trapped in a whirlpool of every horrible feeling imaginable. Agony, humiliation, exhaustion, disgust…when, when would it finally end?  
  
Just as Murakami finished his final finger, Ichijou gasped and Kaiji felt something warm and sticky splatter on his face—he needn’t to hazard a guess as to what it was. A seed of nausea was planted the moment he saw Ichijou get off to his pain, and now it was in full bloom.   
  
Ichijou planted his hands on the floor, pulling his face in to Kaiji’s own. His sleek, neat hair fell in strands before him, some sticking to the sweat on his face, and his chest heaved. He saw Ichijou’s lips move but the sound around him dissolved as he finally, finally passed out.


End file.
